My writings ...

I would like to invite everyone to follow my other blog with my personal writings and poetry 'Ma Chanson de Rien du Tout'. This would avoid double posting ;)

Big kisses to all!
Lena

Relevation

I've lived to see this day,
where nothing comes my way
where all is said and done
untill the angels come.

One day they will come for me
when my eyes are stained red
my heart torn apart
by a treaturous dart

Fame and fortune
Is all that's at stake
but maybe I'll be happier
small and tucked away.

My apprentice

I once knew a man
who never knew before
till he met me
and decided the path of wisdom
was his to take.

I declared him insane, warned him, but no use
Allas, could he have been more wrong
for wisdom does not lead to happiness
and does not bring money for bread and water

Desillusioned he uttered:
damned is the life
of the gifted ones.
Hide and await death!
For the sweetest chalice will come
To you too my dear friend, I know you long.

Good recent readings

-David Blaine, Antisocial (click that link!)
-The Master and Margarita, Bulgakov
-Onder Professoren, Willem Frederik Hermans

Schrijven in het Nederlands
is een kunst
die ik niet bezit
en waarschijnlijk nooit zal bezitten.

I kan maar op enkele meesters komen
zoals Boudewijn of Lennaert Nijgh
die de kunst bezaten
om ook deze taal
om te toveren tot een dromendal.

Slechts één keer ooit
voelde ik het genoegen
deze taal om te zetten in dicht
geslaagd
zonder meer.

Waarschijnlijk blijft het daarbij.
Het weze zo

Wrong blog but it reminds me to keep posting ;)

All the remnants of night and day
don't keep the demons away
But there used to be a spark
to chase them all around the dark.

Dear morning,
I bid you a good day
I hope your smile
chases the insomnia away.

Dear night
I welcome thee
bring me the salvation
Of a dream more beautiful than me.

Ballade van de vriendinnen van een nacht.

Wel ben ik liever thuis dan in een kroeg
maar daar sluipt `s nachts de stilte om me heen.
En denken over jou deed ik genoeg,
dus blijf ik dan maar liever op de been
want slapen gaat allang niet meer alleen.

Alleen is maar alleen, ik ken de stad,
wanneer ik eenmaal lastig ben en zat
is ieder lichaam even warm en zacht
en helpt vergeten wat ik eenmaal had.
Zo ken ik mijn vriendinnen van een nacht.

Wanneer de dag komt, zie ik pas mijn prooi,
daar naast me slaapt een onbekend gezicht.
En blijkt ze `s morgens vroeg niet meer zo mooi
als gisteravond met dat roze licht,
dan doe ik maar weer gauw mijn ogen dicht.

Het was misschien wel fijn voor deze keer,
ik ga en kom na deze nacht nooit meer.
En als ze mij ontmoet en vragend lacht,
dan denk ik: wie ben jij nu ook al weer?
Zo ken ik mijn vriendinnen van een nacht.

Soms droom ik half dat ik weer iets herken,
een geur van haar, een lach waarvan ik houd.
Maar al te goed weet ik dan waar ik ben,
hier lig ik met een vreemde blote vrouw
en niemand op de wereld lijkt op jou.

Maar blijf ik `s avonds thuis, dan wordt het stil,
die kamers vol van toen, ze zijn zo kil.
Ik vlucht de stad in en ga weer op jacht
en breng mezelf opnieuw waar ik niet wil.
Zo ken ik mijn vriendinnen van een nacht.

Prinsesjes lief, als iemand jullie kwetst
of sletten noemt of over zeden zwetst,
laat hem een ziekte krijgen vol venijn.
We sliepen met elkaar en dat was fijn.
En daarom heb ik niemand ooit veracht,
maar ik zal jullie altijd dankbaar zijn.
Zo ben ik, mijn vriendinnen van een nacht.

Boudewijn De Groot/Lennaert Nijgh (RIP)

Broeder Dood by Hesse

Ooit benader je ook mij,
omdat geen ontsnapt,
en de kwelling is voorbij,
en de kwelling knapt.

Nu nog schijn je vreemd en ver,
Lieve Broeder Dood,
Sta je als een koele ster
Hoog boven mijn nood.

Maar ooit komt het ogenblik
Dat je dichtbij brandt -
Kom Geliefde, hier ben ik,
Neem me bij de hand.

Waiting for Marianne ... by Leonard Cohen

Waiting for Marianne

I have lost a telephone
with your smell in it


I am living beside the radio
all the stations at once
but I pick out a Polish lullaby
I pick it out of the static
it fades I wait I keep the beat
it comes back almost asleep

Did you take the telephone
knowing I'd sniff it immoderately
maybe heat up the plastic
to get all the crumbs of your breath

and if you won't come back
how will you phone to say
you won't come back
so that I could at least argue

"Flowers for Hitler"

With a little help from Alex Bustillo

When I get home by Herman Brood

When I get home
Im gonna sit on my bed
When I get home
The feed back in my head
When I get home
I wont answer the phone

But right now, right now, right now Im here on the road.

When I get home
Im gonna touch your hair
When I get home
Im gonna touch you there
When I get home
Ill be on top of you

But right now, right now, right now Im here on my own.

When I get home
I knew it aint no sceen
When I get home
You knew I take of my skin
When I get home
I dance around in my doors

But right now, right now, right now Im cruisin alone.

When I get home
Im gonna see my girls
When I get home
Im gonna buy them a toy
When I get home
There gonna jump with joy

But right now, right now, right now Im flying alone.

This blog will apparently be continued ...

after a silence of years. Apparently this collection of my favorite poetry, lyrics and my own poems in foreign language speaks to a lot of people. I have been asked to keep this blog going.

No Images ...

She does not know her beauty.

She thinks her brown body has no glory

But if she could dance naked ‘neath the palm tree

and see her reflection in the mirror then she would know.



But there are no trees on the street where she lives and

Dishwater gives back no images.



She does not know her beauty.

She thinks her brown body has no glory

But if she could dance naked ‘neath the palm tree

and see her reflection in the mirror then she would know.


Lyrics: Waring Cuney, Music: Ysaye M. Barnwell (c)1981, Performed by: Nina Simone

Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

For David, My first poem ever ...

Er vallen vlokjes
Ze komen op hun sokjes.
Zo stil, zo zacht,
Ze komen in de nacht.

Wat doen die pluisjes
Op de huisjes,
Op de bomen?
Ze laten me dromen.

Ik neem een vlokje broos
Ik leg het in een doos
Zie een beetje later
Het vlokje is nu water ...

I almost went to bed ...

I almost went to bed
without remembering
the four white violets
I put in the button-hole
of your green sweater

and how i kissed you then
and you kissed me
shy as though I'd
never been your lover

Song from "The Spice-Box of Earth"
Leonard Cohen

I remember ...

Fall fell by me

Seasons turning,
seaons burning
as clouds
go through my head.

Seasons turning
seasons burning
as memories and thoughts
chase around instead

Leaves falling
seasons changing ...
Don't let the past
influence life today.

Il était une fois ...

Er was eens ...
een straatlantaarn ... de prachtigste uitvinding van de mens ...

In de donkere nachten
van een frisse nazomer
geeft de straatlantaarn licht,
licht aan de rustelozen

Af en toe brengt de straatlantaarn troost
en toont hij de schoonheid van de nacht.

Af en toe brengt de straatlantaarn twee rusteloze zielen bij elkaar
hij laat ze toe elkaar te zien.
Voor één moment hebben ze twee ogen
in een land waar een éénoog reeds koning is.

Ze ontmoeten elkaar met een blik een van herkenning
Aan sommigen biedt de straatlantaarn enkel troost,
aan de rustelozen geeft hij het gevoel van éénheid in herkenning,
en de rustelozen beseffen dat herkenning en éénheid ook voor hen bestaat.

En heel af en toe brengt de straatlantaarn twee rusteloze zielen samen tot één geheel.
Ze versmelten tot een eenheid, een passionele kus, kabbelend water, een stormende waterval, het merelgezang van een vroege ochtend en de geur van de vallende bladeren van een beginnende herfst.
Voor één keer komen ze tot rust.

Wat een straatlantaarn allemaal niet kan doen,
in een donkere nacht
met een halve maan ...

Er was eens ... een straatlantaarn ...
De prachtigste uitvinding van de mensheid ...

For somebody.
LV

Vilanella for Our Time by Frank Scott

From Bitter Searching of the heart,
Quickened with passion and with pain
We raise to play a greater part.

This is the faith from which we start:
Men shall know commonwealth again
From bitter Searching of the heart.
We loved the easy and the smart,
But now, with keener hand and brain,
We raise to play a greater part.

The lesser loyalties depart,
And neither race nor creed remain
From bitter searching of the heart.
Not steering by the venal chart
That tricked the mass for private gain,
We rise to play a greater part.

Reshaping narrow law and art
Whose symbols are the millions slain,
From bitter searching of the heart
We rise to play a greater part.

My tower of song

"I asked to Hank Williams
how lonely does it get?
Hank Williams hasn't answered yet
but I still here him coughing
one hundred floors above me
in the Tower of Song"

36. the sunflowerseeds ...

All I want is to be your sunflower
To watch over you from up high
When the wind blows
I will kiss you like sunshine
Stealing pieces from a perfect sky
So here you go again
So here you go again

And they say that it really doesn't matter
Anyway
That it really doesn't matter
Anyway

I'm not asking to be more than your lover
I'm not asking anything that I shouldn't
To bring everything we know to an end
So here you go again
So here you go again

And they say that it really doesn't matter
Anyway
That it really doesn't matter
Anyway
So here you go

And I wanted to be your lover
But your pushing me under cover
I wanted to be your lover
But you're pushing me down
Pushing me down
Under cover, yeah
Because here you go again

And they say that it really doesn't matter
Anyway
That it really doesn't matter
Anyway
And they say that it really doesn't matter
Anyway
That it really doesn't matter
Anyway

Tonic

Beneath My Hands

Beneath my hands
your small breasts
are the upturned bellies
of breathing fallen sparrows.


Wherever you move
I hear the sounds of closing wings
of falling wings.


I am speechless
because you have fallen beside me
because your eyelashes
are the spines of tiny fragile animals.


I dread the time
when your mouth
begins to call me hunter.


When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want to summon
the eyes and hidden mouths
of stone and light and water
to testify against you.


I want them
to surrender before you
the trembling rhyme of your face
from their deep caskets.


When you call me close
to tell me
your body is not beautiful
I want my body and my hands
to be pools
for your looking and laughing.

"In my hands, your small breasts ..." from "The Spice-Box of Earth"
LC

33. A good one ...

MAN:
if i told you things i did before
told you how i used to be
would you go along with someone like me
if you knew my story word for word
had all of my history
would you go along with someone like me

WOMAN:
i did before and had my share
it didn't lead nowhere
i would go along with someone like you
it doesn't matter what you did
who you were hanging with
we could stick around and see this night through

BOTH:
and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about their own faults
talkin' 'bout our own style
all we care 'bout is talking
talking only me and you

usually when things has gone this far
people tend to disappear
no-one will surprise me unless you do

i can tell there's something goin' on
hours seems to disappear
everyone is leaving i'm still with you

it doesn't matter what we do
where we are going to
we can stick around and see this night through

and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about their own faults
talkin' 'bout our own style
all we care 'bout is talking
talking only me and you

and we don't care about the young folks
talkin' bout the young style
and we don't care about the old folks
talkin' 'bout the old style too
and we don't care about their own faults
talkin' 'bout our own style
all we care 'bout is talking
talking only me and you
talking only me and you

talking only me and you
talking only me and you

Peter, Bjorn & John coöperation Victoria Bergsman

(if the lyrics keep getting this long the repetitions will have to be cut out ... but I like this song, read the beginning well)

31. Hurt ...

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

J. Cash

30. The Good Ones Go First ...

I picked up the phone, I needed to reach someone, I thought she would be there.
I picked up the phone like I did for six long years each day for a half an hour or an hour. Enjoy it while you can she said. It must be nearly seven years ago.

After those six years I resented phonecalls that lasted longer than ten or fifteen minutes. My phonebills are rarely expensive ...

The same city, the same hospital, the same corridors, the same rooms, the same scent, the same atmosphere, ... Narrow, uneasy, everybody knew: death. Looking out that one window that shows nature, clouds, sky and nothing more concrete. How they longed to be outside. How I jumped on his bed and I immediately saw that smile (nurses were always mad at me, you know, but he didn't care as long as I was there).

So I picked up the phone, I dialed the number but she didn't answer. Then I realised again even the phonenumbers are alike, except the tree last numbers. It was my nephew, who of course finaly ran in to somebody who had seen it all, knew it all, ... the goal probably to be cheered up, to give him hope? The only thing I could offer him was sympathy, empathy, understanding and support. Noone can give comfort to a son who is about to loose his mother. He kept talking, the phonecall slowly turned from one question into a heavy conversation of more than 20 minutes. Tell her to enjoy these few days at home, I said. Thank You, he said.

As I lay down the phone, I saw it all in front of my eyes again: the city, the buss, the building, those awfull corridors, religion for those who are about to die, ... No last heaven on earth. No last earth in heaven.
I remembered my last phonecall when she didn't want to pass over the telephone, I convinced her and I cried, like I never cried before.

I remembered my last visit, I bought him a calendar, year 2000, of German Shepherds which he loved. I still remember opening the door, I saw what I saw: a dying man and apparently I was the only one who saw reality. Tissues, talking, trying to explain why I didn't bring his dog, saying goodbye with a soft fair tee well kiss. An attempt to rip off bandages and tight cords as he wanted to go after his children. Sweet sister Morphine, I hope you gave him a rather painless death. That he may forget at the Lethe. Next day the telephone rang, I allready knew.

The phonecall now catapulted me seven years back, and although so much had changed, it seemed a moment of eternity.

I realised that my biggest fear of all is still that city, that hospital, the corridors and opening that door. I never forget these memories but I prefer the ones in which we laughed and cried together, how we watched TV and commented, how he counted the minutes and seconds till school was over, so I could come back and bring him warmth, sun and company.


I don't know to whom I'm saying it, because of the rest, there is little left to say.

Thank you for giving me the chance to learn to know my father ...


He will have to face the same things. Some day I will have to visit her, that kind, kind woman, understanding, curious to know my life because she herself never had a baby girl. I will visit her.

But:
Don't wait too long
Don't be late

30. A traveling lady has no home ...

Le Chant Des Partisans

When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender,
This I could not do;
I took my gun and vanished.

I have changed my name so often,
Ive lost my wife and children
But I have many friends,
And some of them are with me.

An old woman gave us shelter,
Kept us hidden in the garret,
Then the soldiers came;
She died without a whisper.

There were three of us this morning
Im the only one this evening
But I must go on;
The frontiers are my prison.

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.

Les allemands etaient chez moi,
Ils me dirent, signe toi,
Mais je nai pas peur;
Jai repris mon arme.
Jai change cent fois de nom,
Jai perdu femme et enfants
Mais jai tant damis;
Jai la france entie`re.
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a cache,
Les allemands lont pris;
Il est mort sans surprise.

[the germans were at my home
They said, sign yourself,
But I am not afraid
I have retaken my weapon.
I have changed names a hundred times
I have lost wife and children
But I have so many friends
I have all of france
An old man, in an attic
Hid us for the night
The germans captured him
He died without surprise.]

Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
Through the graves the wind is blowing,
Freedom soon will come;
Then well come from the shadows.

LC & Noir Désir

29. Going home ...

I went down to the place
Where I knew she lay waiting
Under the marble and the snow
I said, Mother I'm frightened
The thunder and the lightning
I'll never come through this alone
She said, I'll be with you
My shawl wrapped around you
My hand on your head when you go
And the night came on
It was very calm
I wanted the night to go on and on
But she said, Go back to the World
We were fighting in Egypt
When they signed this agreement
That nobody else had to die
There was this terrible sound
And my father went down
With a terrible wound in his side
He said, Try to go on
Take my books, take my gun
Remember, my son, how they lied
And the night comes on
It's very calm
I'd like to pretend that my father was wrong
But you don't want to lie, not to the young

We were locked in this kitchen
I took to religion
And I wondered how long she would stay
I needed so much
To have nothing to touch
I've always been greedy that way
But my son and my daughter
Climbed out of the water
Crying, Papa, you promised to play
And they lead me away
To the great surprise
It's Papa, don't peek, Papa, cover your eyes
And they hide, they hide in the World

Now I look for her always
I'm lost in this calling
I'm tied to the threads of some prayer
Saying, When will she summon me
When will she come to me
What must I do to prepare
When she bends to my longing
Like a willow, like a fountain
She stands in the luminous air
And the night comes on
And it's very calm
I lie in her arms and says, When I'm gone
I'll be yours, yours for a song

Now the crickets are singing
The vesper bells ringing
The cat's curled asleep in his chair
I'll go down to Bill's Bar
I can make it that far
And I'll see if my friends are still there
Yes, and here's to the few
Who forgive what you do
And the fewer who don't even care
And the night comes on
It's very calm
I want to cross over, I want to go home
But she says, Go back, go back to the World

L.C.

28. Somewhere They Can't Find Me

One from the past ...

I can hear the soft breathing of the girl that I love
As she lies here beside me asleep with the night
Her hair in a fine mist floats on my pillow
Reflecting the flow of the winter moonlight

But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me

Oh baby, you don't know what I've done
I've committed a crime, I've broken the law
While you were here sleeping and just dreaming of me
I held up and robbed a liquor store

But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me

Oh my life seems unreal, my crime an illusion
A scene badly written in which I must play
And thought it puts me up tight to leave you
I know it's not right to leave you
When morning is just a few hours away

But I've got to creep down the alley way
Fly down the highway
Before they come to catch me I'll be gone
Somewhere they can't find me

S & G

27. Stranger Song

It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender,
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much
not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger

And then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.

But now another stranger seems
to want you to ignore his dreams
as though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.

Ah you hate to see another tired man
lay down his hand
like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
you notice there's a highway
that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder.
It is curling just like smoke above his shoulder.

You tell him to come in sit down
but something makes you turn around
The door is open you can't close your shelter
You try the handle of the road
It opens do not be afraid
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
It's you my love, you who are the stranger.

Well, I've been waiting, I was sure
we'd meet between the trains we're waiting for
I think it's time to board another
Please understand, I never had a secret chart
to get me to the heart of this
or any other matter
When he talks like this
you don't know what he's after
When he speaks like this,
you don't know what he's after.

Let's meet tomorrow if you choose
upon the shore, beneath the bridge
that they are building on some endless river
Then he leaves the platform
for the sleeping car that's warm
You realize, he's only advertising one more shelter
And it comes to you, he never was a stranger
And you say ok the bridge or someplace later.

And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind ...

And leaning on your window sill ...

I told you when I came I was a stranger.

LC

26. Lay Lady Lay

Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed
Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed
Whatever colors you have in your mind
I'll show them to you and you'll see them shine

Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed
Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile
Until the break of day, let me see you make him smile
His clothes are dirty but his hands are clean
And you're the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay, lady, stay, stay with your man awhile
Why wait any longer for the world to begin
You can have your cake and eat it too
Why wait any longer for the one you love
When he's standing in front of you

Lay, lady, lay, lay across my big brass bed
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead
I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead

Bob

25. Street Spirit (fade out).

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
Fade out again, Fade out.

This machine will, will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all, go under
fade out again, fade out again

Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
Fade out again, Fade out again

Immerse your soul in love
Immerse your soul in love

Radiohead

24. Dreams and thoughts ...

Dreams ...

Thoughts ...

can't be captivated in words and they shouldn't be either. Even if they are written down they can only express a fraction of what someone means or thinks ... they're also often personal ... so they should get the chance to roam free, interact with the dreams and thoughts of someone who understands their nature, instead of being closed up here ...

22. Suzanne.

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.

And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.

Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

L.C.

Glad for you Suzanne, hope your happy ...

21. 'Cause I love you ...

I’ll sweep out your chimney
yes and, I will bring you flowers
yes and, I will do for you
Most anything you want me to

If we live in a cottage
You will feel like it’s a castle
By the royal way you’re treated
And attention shown to you

I’ll be there beside you
If you need a cryin shoulder
Yes, and I’ll be there to listen
When you need to talk to me

When you wake up in the darkness
I will put my arms around you
And hold you till the mornin sun
Comes shinin’ through the trees

I’ll be right beside you
No matter where you travel
I’ll be there to cheer you
Till the sun comes shinin through

If we’re ever parted
I will keep the tie that binds us
And I’ll never let it break
’Cause I love you

I will bring you honey
From the bee tree in the meadow
And the first time there’s a rainbow
I’ll bring you a pot of gold

I’ll take all your troubles
And I’ll throw ‘em in the river
Then I’ll bundle down beside you
And I’ll keep you from the cold

I’ll be right beside you
No matter where you travel
I’ll be there to cheer you
Till the sun comes shinin through

If we’re ever parted
I will keep the tie that binds us
And I’ll never let it break
’Cause I love you

Johnny Cash

20. Wolf

Ronddolend met een kleine groep
of eenzaam, verlaten door iedereen
's nachts, de kermend klagende roep
doorbrekend, de kille stilte om zich heen.

Schuilend voor de dag en z'n vijanden
Wantrouwig en angstig, turend in 't rond
Pijn, om de eens verbroken banden
Prijs voor de vrijheid, die hij hier weer vond.

Opgejaagd, door die hem niet begrijpen
Eeuwige speurtocht in 't vage onbekende.
Wurging van de halsband nog voelen nijpen
maar ook de hand, die strelend hem verwende.

Hongerend gevoel, knagend aan 't hart
opgesloten en in zichzelf gekeerd
Spoor in de sneeuw, inktvlekken zwart
aan deze blanke leegheid, zich vaak bezeerd.

Troostend, de ruisende melodie der bomen
Als 't bos hem op komt zwelgen, als een golf.
Hier is er nog plaats, om stilletjes te dromen.
Toevlucht voor een vrije, en ongebonden wolf.

Silver Wolf

My lady can sleep by Cohen

My lady can sleep
upon a handkerchief
or if it be fall
upon a fallen leaf

I have seen the hunters
kneel before her hem -
even in her sleep
she turns away from them

the only gift they offer
is their abiding grief -
I pull out my pockets
for a handkerchief or leaf.

L. Cohen

18. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

My funny valentine by Chet Baker

My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet youre my favourite work of art

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

But dont change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

But dont you change one hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day

Rodgers, Hart

16. Summer disappears, Fall falls.

Seasons turning, seasons burning
as clouds go through your head ...
Seasons turning, seasons burning
as memories and thoughts chase around instead.

Just let the flow go

Seasons turning, seasons burning,
as clouds go through your head ...
Seasons turning, seasons burning
as memories and thoughts chase around instead.

Don't let the clouds of yesterday
chase the opportunities today ...
Is it worth it? Always, look ahead ...

Wrong season.

Het vervolg komt een andere keer ;-)

15. Street Sprit

Rows of houses all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out

This machine will not communicate
These thoughts and the strain I am under
Be a world child, form a circle
Before we all go under
And fade out again and fade out again

Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see it's beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we'll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again

Immerse your soul in love
Immerse your soul in love.

Radiohead.

15. Quand le vent se lève, il faut tenter de vivre!

14. Passengers.

A gift to someone a long long time ago ...

Miss Sarajevo.

Is there a time for keeping your distance
A time to turn your eyes away
Is there a time for keeping your head down
For getting on with your day

Is there a time for kohl and lipstick
A time for cutting hair
Is there a time for high street shopping
To find the right dress to wear

Here she comes
Heads turn around
Here she comes
To take her crown

Is there a time to run for cover
A time for kiss and tell
Is there a time for different colours
Different names you find it hard to spell

Is there a time for first communion
A time for East 17
Is there a time to turn to Mecca
Is there time to be a beauty queen

Here she comes
Beauty plays the clown
Here she comes
Surreal in her crown

Dici che il fiume
Trova la via al mare
E come il fiume
Giungerai a me
Oltre i confini
E le terre assetate
Dici che come fiume
Come fiume...
L'amore giunger
L'amore...
E non so più pregare
E nell'amore non so più sperare
E quell'amore non so più aspettare

[Translation of the above]
It's said that a river
Finds the way to the sea
And like the river
You shall come to me
Beyond the borders
And the thirsty lands
You say that as a river
Like a river...
Love shall come
Love...
And I'm not able to pray anymore
And I cannot hope in love anymore
And I cannot wait for love anymore
[End of Translation]

Is there a time for tying ribbons
A time for Christmas trees
Is there a time for laying tables
And the night is set to freeze

Bono Performed By: Passengers + Pavarotti, 1995

13. Morgane de toi.

Le déserteur

Monsieur le président
Je vous fais une bafouille
Que vous lirez sûrement
Si vous avez des couilles
Je viens de recevoir
Un coup d'fil de mes vieux
Pour m'prévenir qu'les gemdarmes
S'étaient pointés chez eux
J'ose pas imaginer
C'que leur a dit mon père
Lui, les flics, les curés
Et pis les militaires
Les a vraiment dans l'nez
P't-être encore plus que moi
Dès qu'il peut en bouffer
L'vieil anar' y s'gêne pas
L'vieil anar' y s'gêne pas

Alors y parait qu'on m'cherche
Qu'la France a besoin d'moi
C'est con, j'suis en Ardèche
Y fait beau, tu crois pas
J'suis là avec des potes
Des écolos marrants
On a une vieille bicoque
On la retappe tranquillement
On fait pousser des chèvres
On fabrique des bijoux
On peut pas dire qu'on s'crève
L'travail, c'est pas pour nous
On a des plantations
Pas énormes, trois hectares
D'une herbe qui rend moins con
Non, c'est pas du ricard
Non, c'est pas du ricard

Monsieur le président
Je suis un déserteur
De ton armée de glands
De ton troupeau d'branleurs
Ils auront pas ma peau
Toucheront pas à mes cheveux
J'saluerai pas l'drapeau
J'marcherai pas comme les bœufs
J'irai pas en Allemagne
Faire le con pendant douze mois
Dans une caserne infame
Avec des plus cons qu'moi
J'aime pas recevoir des ordres
J'aime pas me lever tôt
J'aime pas étrangler le borgne
Plus souvent qu'il ne faut
Plus souvent qu'il ne faut

Puis surtout c'qui m'déplait
C'est que j'aime pas la guerre
Et qui c'est qui la fait
Ben c'est les militaires
Ils sont nuls, ils sont moches
Et pis ils sont teigneux
Maintenant j'vais t'dire pourquoi
J'veux jamais être comme eux
Quand les Russes, les Ricains
Feront péter la planete
Moi, j'aurais l'air malin
Avec ma bicyclette
Mon pantalon trop court
Mon fusil, mon calot
Ma ration d'topinambour
Et ma ligne Maginot
Et ma ligne Maginot

Alors me gonfle pas
Ni moi, ni tous mes potes
Je serai jamais soldat
J'aime pas les bruits de bottes
T'as plus qu'a pas t'en faire
Et construire tranquilos
Tes centrales nucléaire
Tes sous-marins craignos
Mais va pas t'imaginer
Monsieur le président
Que j'suis manipulé
Par les rouges ou les blancs
Je n'suis qu'un militant
Du parti des oiseaux
Des baleines, des enfants
De la terre et de l'eau
De la terre et de l'eau

Monsieur le président
Pour finir ma bafouille
J'voulais t'dire simplement
Ce soir on fait des nouilles
A la ferme c'est l'panard
Si tu veux, viens bouffer
On fumera un pétard
Et on pourra causer
On fumera un pétard
Et on pourra causer

Renaud Séchan, 1983.

10. Of niet soms?

"Het mooie van de maan
is dat je hem nooit ziet ondergaan."

9. Wie ik ben

Vroeger miste ik de vrienden
die ik uit het oog verloren had.
Dat waren vrienden van vroeger.
En ik bezong verliefd de meisjes
met wie ik nooit iets had gehad.
Dat zijn liefdes van vroeger.

Feesten, stranden, wilde jaren,
die ik in mijn onschuld nooit vergat.
Maar dat zijn jaren van vroeger.
Wat ik nu zie in het verleden
zijn de toekomstmogelijkheden.

Ik kreeg tranen in mijn ogen,
als ik aan vroeger dacht.
Maar dat zijn tranen van vroeger.
Ik zocht mijn heden in het verleden,
heb van mijn toekomst niets verwacht,
maar dat was het heden van vroeger.

Ik was gelukkig als ik droomde
en ik me verbergen kon.
Maar dat is het geluk van vroeger.
Ik was bang voor de volwassenheid
die ik in mijn jeugd verzon.
Maar dat is angst van vroeger.

Toch moet ik er niet aan denken
dat jij je ooit in mij vergist.
Want dan zul je moeten schuilen
voor nieuwe tranen die ik zal huilen.
En misschien zal het weer tien jaar duren
voor ik die heb weggewist.
En misschien zal het weer tien jaar duren...

Boudewijn De Groot-Renee Daalder

8. Halo

You wear guilt
Like shackles on your feet
Like a halo in reverse
I can feel
The discomfort in your seat
And in your head it's worse

There's a pain
A famine in your heart
An aching to be free
Can't you see
All love's luxuries
Are here for you and me

And when our worlds
They fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It will be worth it

Bring your chains
Your lips of tragedy
And fall into my arms

And when our worlds
They fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It will be worth it

Depeche Mode

7. Outdated.

I would have said: I will
But you sealed my lips
And answered instead:
You won't.

Afterwards I just say: God, am I glad you did that. Outdated.

Twist In My Sobriety by Tanita Tikaram

All God's children need travelling shoes
Drive your problems from here
All good people read good books
Now your conscience is clear
I hear you talk girl
Now your conscience is clear

In the morning I wipe my brow
Wipe the miles away
I like to think I can be so willed
And never do what you say
I'll never hear you
And never do what you say

Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety

We just poked a little pie
For the fun people had at night
Late at night don't need hostility
The timid smile and pause to free

I don't care about their different thoughts
Different thoughts are good for me
Up in arms and chaste and whole
All God's children took their toll

Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety

Cup of tea, take time to think, yea
Time to risk a life, a life, a life
Sweet and handsome
Soft and porky
You pig out 'til you've seen the light
Pig out 'til you've seen the light

Half the people read the papers
Read them good and well
Pretty people, nervous people
People have got to sell
News you have to sell

Look my eyes are just holograms
Look your love has drawn red from my hands
From my hands you know you'll never be
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety
More than twist in my sobriety

Tanita Tikaram

6. O Me! O Life!

O Me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring-What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here-that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Walt Whitman

5. She Walks In Beauty.

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear, their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron

3. Slaap!

And I'll show you
Who I've been running from
It's the feeling
Of waking
And it's gone.

-Tindersticks, A Night In

Is it really gone?

2. Carpe Diem.

Seize The Day

'TIS ONLY IN THEIR DREAMS THAT MEN TRULY BE FREE,

'TWAS ALWAYS THUS, AND ALWAYS THUS WILL BE.

Keating.

1. The Writings on the Wall ...

Toute personalité consiste de differents aspects, points de vue, caractéristiques, ...

Une chanson de rien du tout me donne la possibilité d'exprimer moi-même dans la couleur café que je préfère à ce moment. C'est un aspect de moi-même qui ne voit pas souvent la lumière publique en tant que telle.

Ceux qui me connaissent savent que cette chanson fait partie d'un éventail et qu'elle ne représente qu'un des couleurs de ma personalité. Mais c'est un des couleurs les plus importants justement parce qu'ils ne sont jamais dits, que je ne les prononce presque jamais ...

Moi, je le sais: j'aime les textes, la musique, la poésie, ... Mais durant l'écriture d' "Une chanson de rien du tout ..." je remarquerais une collusion. Pas une collusion à vrai dire naturellement, mais le sentiment que certains textes que je voudrais ajouter n'étaient pas à leur place là, pas là. Ils font parties d'un autre aspect de ma personalité, un aspect plus publique, qui exprime un autre couleur de cet éventail qui fait moi. Les textes expriment plutôt une vision sur la société, les gens, parfois aussi les rêves, mais aussi les guerres, la faim, en un mot tout, dans un cadre plus global, plus grand du monde, de la réalité, de la globalité d'une société fatiguée.

Ici vous trouvez de nouvelles pièces qui forment ce mosaïque, ce mosaïque de ma personalité. La chanson est le blog le plus important. Mais ici vous trouvez des textes du passé, de hier, de demain et du future; des autres, des poètes, des musiciens et parfois aussi de moi.

Ce blog ne va pas avoir beaucoup de visiteurs, je le sais. Mais, comme la chanson, le nombre n'est pas le but, n'est pas assez important.

These are the Writings on the Wall ...